


Secrets of the Manor

by Lucicelo



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drama, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Romance, Secrets, fake death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucicelo/pseuds/Lucicelo
Summary: Since you were born, all you knew was Heelshire manor. From the lands to the interior, you knew the place like the back of your hand. As the cook's daughter, you lived behind those lavish walls and witnessed the tragedy of the Heelshire family. Their beloved son died, but he didn't remain dead for long.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Female Reader, Brahms Heelshire/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 144





	Secrets of the Manor

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be underneath 10k and I surpassed it with all these additional scenes. I hope I did Brahms' character well because fics show him in a certain way, but the interpretation is mixed between writers. Also, the movie showcases in in limited scenes where they are his parents POV, Greta's POV, or the end scenes where he kills Cole. 
> 
> I added the servants because the Heelshire's are a rich family. I'm sure they kept a staff and got rid of them at some point. In a way, it would make sense for reader to be the main cook and be the last one standing in the end. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> -Lucicelo

You were the daughter of Heelshire family's cook. A position that gave you and your mother a place in the servant's quarters. Of course, the quarters were separated through gender to prevent _scandals._ The women's section was bigger due to the overabundance of maids and cooking staff. Over the years, the female staff reduced, giving you a space for yourself. Your nook near the window gave you an opportunity to decorate it with small planters given to you by the gardener. You became the pseudo child or grandchild to many of the employees on staff. Instead of getting in trouble, they covered for you when any of the family members complained about your adventures through the manor.

You were lucky enough to grow up in that manor due to your mother's previous employment with the family. The Heelshire's missed your mother's cooking and didn't question her sudden return after two years. As years passed on, you heard whispers of your vagabond father, but you chose to not ask your mother any questions.

What use was there to bring up bad memories?

Both of you survived because of the Heelshire's _generosity_. No one would have tolerated having their employee care for their child while working. Mr. Heelshire welcomed your mother in with open arms and reinstated her placed as the cook. His comment of you becoming his son's playmate was nothing more than pretty words. Of course, Mrs. Heelshire wouldn't let her beloved boy play with the _help's_ child.

When you were born as a girl, the possibility _tanked_ even _further_. Which was odd since Brahms' future playmate was a girl. A bratty girl who tormented you for your difference in status. Everytime you complained to your mother in tears, she kept you busy and away from Brahms and his playmate. She distracted you through food preparation and schoolwork.

Her realistic attitude broke _any_ illusions of you wanting to play with him. She was honest in showing the vast differences between you and Brahms Heelshire. You were a _cook's_ daughter and he was a _rich man's_ son.

Worlds apart.

It was unavoidable to bump into him. Not when you encountered Brahms whenever he wandered into the kitchen for an extra snack. You didn't want to be rude so you said hi even if he even didn't return the greeting. Other times, he lingered around the kitchen when you tried doing your homework or helped with food prep.

At first, you found it weird that he didn't talk to you. Maybe, he was shy or didn't know what to say. It happened to you plenty of times when the Heelshire's tried talking to you.

Without notice, he began helping you with your homework. He was older than you, so he already learned everything your grade. Happy for the help, you listened to him as he wrote down the process for the answers. Sometimes, he left his snack before leaving the kitchen. You found it strange, but you didn't question having free snacks.

He returned again and again.

You liked having Brahms tutor you in your lessons. He was patient while your mum lost her patience due to the changes in curriculum. It was also cool to have someone older pay attention to you. As the only other child in the manor, you knew he was lonely. You felt lonely too.

* * *

One day, Mrs. Heelshire caught you two in your lessons. Brahms tried fighting his mum when she dragged him away from the kitchen. For the first time since you knew him, he _argued back_ to his _mum._ You heard his mum lecturing Brahms over spending time with the _help's child._ He had a proper playmate and didn't need to lower himself to a _random girl._

You sat there at the table and cried.

Nothing _bad_ happened.

He was just helping you with your homework.

When your mum returned from helping the maids, you saw a tired look on her face. Whenever your mum looked extra tired, it meant Mrs. Heelshire released her complaints onto her. You overheard the other servants grumble about Mrs. Heelshire's snipping comments when it came to their work.

You never thought she would direct those comments at you.

Your afternoon was spent listening to your mum plead with you to ignore Brahms, She gave you permission to spend time with your classmates after school or go to sleepovers. Anything to keep you from bumping into Brahms for the time being.

You didn't need her to tell you twice.

Her cold hands rubbed against your red eyes before kissing your worries away. "I know it's unfair, but these rich folks are odd in their ways. Mr. Heelshire is fair to his staff and will calm his wife down. For now, stay away from their son."

You sniffled. "But, he was just helping me with my homework, mummy. He wasn't doing anything wrong."

"I know, dear. I know." She kissed your cheek before she whipped up a sweet treat. "After you eat this, you're going to shower and then take a nap."

You stammered out. "B-But what about food prep? You always make me help with dinner."

Your mum winked at you. "Be a good girl and listen to your mum." She set down the plate on the table before fetching you a glass of milk. "Once you're finished, do what I told you."

"Yes, mummy."

* * *

One early Saturday morning, you dressed up in old scruffy clothes to play in the forest. You didn't need to grab your best dress to impress anyone the Heelshire's invited. All you had to do was stay out of the way and not interrupt Brahms's birthday party. Easy enough.

Since the Heeshire's kept your mum busy with Brahms' birthday bash, you thought about exploring the forest. This way, you avoided Emily's haughty attitude and have fun on your own. Besides, the way the party was made, it looked like a party for _adults_ , not for _kids._ There wasn't a bouncy house or entertainment. It looked kind of boring if you were honest.

One of the newer maids, Jenny, stopped you before he went out the door. "Now, where do you think you're going, young lady?"

You answered with a giggle. "I'm going to wander around the forests with my basket! Mummy doesn't need my help so I can play by myself."

Jenny smiled. "Alright then, I'll let your mummy know that you're nearby. Try not to wander off too far. Okay?"

"Thanks!" You hurried into the woods with the basket in your arms.

You wandered throughout the vast property without fear. Ever since you were old enough to walk, different servants took turns taking care of you when you were younger. You ended up in different locations of the mansion and parts of town that your mum never wandered into. The gardeners took you throughout the property and you were confident about finding your way back.

Losing yourself in your imagination, you created an adventure as you searched for the berries. You wanted to use them for a dessert or a jam. Well, your mum would make these tasty treats for you. Even if you helped her prep the vegetables, she didn't let you use the stove. She became like the devil in the kitchen and didn't like someone getting in her way. You learned better than to try to stir any of the pots when your mum was in the zone.

At some point, you saw the berries and collected as many as you could carry. Of course, in between each pick and pull, you ate a few of the berries. Your face and hands became sticky with juice, but you wiped your hands onto your pants. Pulling up the bottom of your shirt, you cleaned your face.

Once your stomach started grumbling for a meal, you made your way back to the backdoors. Even if your mum was busy, she left pots of leftover food in the kitchen before she served the guests. As you walked closer, you heard different people yelling your name. Picking up the pace, you tried not to trip over your feet.

You tried not to panic. You told Jenny you were going exploring. There was no way the others thought you got lost or left without telling anyone.

When you burst through the bushes, you saw your mum turning around in all directions. She kept yelling out your name in desperation.

"Mum?"

"(Y/N)!" Your mother screamed in relief as she snatched you up in her arms.

Confused, you burst into tears. You didn't mean to worry your mum. "Mummy?" You held up the basket full of wild berries. "I told Jenny I was going in the woods to get some berries. D-Didn't she tell you?"

Your mum peppered your face with kisses before she turned around to the mansion. "(Y/N) is here!"

A group of servants rushed through the back door. Mixtures of maids and gardeners were in the group. You were surprised to see the head butler, Bruce, walk to your direction. They looked relieved at the sight of you in your mummy's arms. All of them took turns ruffling your hair with smiles on their faces.

Looking to the side of the manor, your eyes widened at the sight of smoke. "Mummy! What's going on?"

Your mother clutched onto you as she muttered. "Thank the heavens it _wasn't_ you. It wasn't _you_."

You looked to some of the maids and asked. "What's going on?"

The head maid, Daisy, let out a sigh. "Oh dear one, there was an accident with the playhouse and...Little Brahms and Miss Emily are trapped inside."

Your eyes widened. "Why isn't anyone saving them?!"

Bruce's rough voice reached your ears and you turned to look at him. "The fire brigade has arrived and are doing all they can to help. Although..." He grimaced. "we haven't received any news."

Daisy rubbed her forearms with a frown. "Do you think they made it on time?"

Bruce responded. "I'm not sure."

You turned your attention to your mum who knelt on the ground, but didn't release your body.

The sun set before the fire was extinguished.

When the day ended, the Heelshire's broke the news to their servants. Brahms died in the fire. You hid your face in your mother's skirts to conceal your tears. Your mum kept her trembling hands on your shoulders.

Brahms' died when you were six years old.

* * *

A month later, the Heelshire's brought home a life size version of Brahms Heelshire.

You peeked behind one of the doors as Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire reintroduced _Brahms_ to the servants.

All the reactions from your mum's friends was blank and no one said a word. Mrs. Heelshire clapped her hands to declare Brahms room to be kept spotless for her boy.

You tuned her out as you stared at that doll. Out of all the toys you were given, you _never_ liked _porcelain dolls_. The eyes followed you everywhere and broke if you played with them too hard. Sort of like the old portraits spread throughout the manor.

Your old stuffed rabbit was ripped and stained, but it never cracked from a tumble to the floor.

You found the doll _creepy_.

 _Real_ _creepy_.

* * *

You greeted _another_ nanny for the doll and kept your mouth shut about her inevitable dismissal. The last time you commented about the Heelshire's picky natures to the previous nanny, your mother slapped the back of your head and told you to shut it. Of course, _everyone_ on staff agreed with you, but they didn't voice their annoyances out loud.

As a child, you were given leniences that they couldn't afford to do. A fake apology did wonders to soothe Mrs. Heelshire out of a rampage over _another_ nanny leaving her _beloved boy._ You were but an ignorant child who knew nothing of decorum.

Everyone on staff found the doll creepy and unnerving. No one wanted to look at it or touch it. It reminded them of the child who once brought tender smiles on the Heelshire's faces. The one child who _softened_ them.

Without Brahms, their expectations _skyrocketed_.

Not to say no one did their jobs right, but the manor used to feel light and airy. The servants used to joke around and laugh throughout the halls. Mrs. Heelshire put a stop to _fun._ Mr. Heelshire attempted to bring back the old atmosphere of the manor, but grief closed in on his wife.

She _didn't_ budge in her decisions.

* * *

Throughout your middle school years, you thought you heard voices and crying coming from behind the walls. Anytime you commented about it, the servants ruffled your hair and told you to stop reading scary stories. Your mum shook her head in amusement about your _imagination._

It was no use.

None of them believed in the _paranormal._

Bruce, on the other hand, put a finger to his lips before dismissing you. You knew the old man saw _everything_ that happened behind closed doors. He never disagreed with your idea, but he didn't discourage your ideas either.

Maybe, there was truth to the ghost kid idea. No one other than Brahms died in recent years.

When you told your mum, she told you to _think_ about it _not_ say it out loud. Even if she didn't believe in ghosts, she didn't want Mrs. Heelshire to take your words the wrong way. Anytime someone commented about doll Brahms, the servant was dismissed without issue.

Whenever you forgot about the crying, the crying _returned._ It was almost as if Brahms wanted you to keep remembering his memory. It was kind of hard to forget him. Doll Brahms made his appearance all throughout the house. Whenever the Heelshire's had their dinner, they brought doll Brahms and sat him down on the table. Although, they made it a rule to place a leftover plate in the fridge. Everything else was given to the servants.

You heard the crying once or twice a day. Whenever you wandered away from the kitchen areas, you heard the crying. It almost bothered you, but you felt bad for ghost Brahms.

He was _suffering._

So, you got it into your head to speak directly to ghost Brahms. Many of the servants were in the second floor and your mum went along to help them clean the attic. You had a chance to do this without looking ridiculous.

Gathering your courage, you left the kitchen, but kept an ear out for anyone. Mrs. Heelshire was known for her soft footsteps and snuck up on people to catch bad behavior. You were lucky enough to dodge her on time because you were fast enough. You prevented more than enough lectures for being sneaky.

You stopped a good distance away from the kitchen before you spoke. "Um...hello?" You muttered as you walked down the hallway. "Brahms? I know I'm older, but it's me, (Y/N)."

You waited for a minute before you let out a sigh.

Maybe, you picked the wrong time to investigate. There was a lot of people throughout the manor that the ghost felt uncomfortable not to show up.

* * *

As you grew older, you heard that Mr. Heelshire tended to leave empty bottles of whiskey in his parlor room.

It happened on two occasions, Brahms birthday and the day Brahms died.

Whispers spread between the staff over the Heelshire's strong grip on their _grief._ Nothing swayed them into trying for another child. In fact, the mere mention of a baby made the couple's faces turn sheet white. Almost as if the idea was blasphemous to the memory of their son but brought on whispers of their _infertility._

You listened to _all_ the gossip with an attentive ear _._

The head butler, Bruce, overheard more than his share of secrets from this family. You tried weeding answers out of him, but he gave you and amused smile before diverting the conversation. As the oldest staff member, the man upheld the old tradition of keeping family secrets.

He remained _tight lipped._

Not that it stopped you from trying.

* * *

You returned late from a classmates house because of a school project. Your two classmates worked on their part of the project while attempting to finish the poster board for the presentation. You managed to section off the parts of the subject when you noticed the time. Rushing out of their house, you left your notes with them so they could finish. Besides, you did your portion of the work, they could write down the information on the board.

You threw away all caution and ran throughout the streets. Waving at different people, you tried hard not to look winded if you said hello to a familiar face. At certain points, you took a break before running off again.

The sun set by the time the manor came into your line of sight.

You cared little when you ran up the drive way. This was the one area that remained well lit in a well forested area. There was no way you were risking danger because Mrs. Heelshire might see you. From the looks of the well lit first floor, the Heelshire's were about to have dinner.

Running around the side of the manor, you went straight for the kitchen exit. Opening the door, the pleasant aromas of your mum's cooking made your stomach grumble. Good thing you didn't overeat on snacks at your classmate's house. Groaning in delight, you shuffled your way inside just as your mum finished placing the plates of food on the cart.

"Your food is on the table!" Your mum yelled before she pushed her cart out of the kitchen.

"Thanks, mum!" You exclaimed as you tossed your backpack onto the floor.

You looked down at your plate and huffed at the lack of crisps. A mischievous smirk appeared on your face as you turned away from the table and hurried into the pantry. Even if the Heelshire's didn't order crisps in their grocer order, you tended to buy a few bags before you returned home from school.

Without your mum snatching the crisps from your hands, you could eat them in peace.

Walking inside the pantry, you reached up your hand to feel around for the chain attached to the lightbulb. When you felt it, you prepared yourself to yank it when you heard noise inside of the kitchen area. Pausing, you waited in the dark as someone made their way into the kitchen.

Odd.

You didn't hear the old door's hinges _creak._

Releasing the chain, you went to the threshold and peered to the side. Your eyes widened. You watched as a masked man entered through one of the secret doors. As the masked man closed the door, your knees buckled and you fell to the floor. You scooted back and your back hit one of the lower shelves. You covered your mouth with your hand in an attempt to hide yourself as the masked man made his way into the kitchen.

You heard his footsteps as he wandered throughout the kitchen. Whoever this person was, timed his robbery in the worst time. Everyone returned into the kitchen once the Heelshire's finished their dinner. They didn't last no more than half an hour, maybe an hour if they entered into a long chat.

When he walked past the pantry door, you froze in place.

Tears gathered in your eyes as this man looked into the pantry. Considering no one entered the pantry during dinner time, no one would come in to help you. You were alone with this intruder.

The stranger walked into the pantry and found the chain without issue. He yanked it down and light filled the room.

"(Y/N)?" The man's squeaky voice reached your ears. He knew _your_ _name_. "Don't be afraid." He crouched in front of you and pointed to his own face. "I'm Brahms."

"Pardon?" You snapped. "H-He's dead! How dare you-"

The masked man removed his mask in order for you to look at his face. Your eyes widened at the sight of his blue eyes. As you processed his face, you recognized Brahms. An _older_ Brahms.

"I don't understand. Your parents said you died in the fire. You're buried in the-" You paused at the pained expression on his face. "Did you...hide in the house. Do your parents know?"

"They know I'm alive." Brahms answered. "They put me behind the walls."

Covering your mouth, you gathered yourself before you pulled him into your arms. He went rigid in your arms. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

Brahms stammered out. "Y-You are?"

You nodded your head as you held onto him even tighter. "Ever since you died, the house hasn't been the same. Why didn't they just send you away? Why make up all these lies?"

Brahms wrapped his arms around you. "I don't know..." He buried his face into your hair and didn't let you go.

You began to panic at the sound of the old door creaking from the servants coming into the kitchen. You didn't know if anyone else knew that Brahms was _alive_. Removing your arms from Brahms body, you scrambled up from the floor and left the pantry.

You saw maids and your mum hurrying into the kitchen.

"M-Mum!" You went to your seat and sat down before someone else took it. "I didn't think you would return this fast."

Your mum snorted. "Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire wanted private time for their dinner. An anniversary sort of event." She placed the cart out of the way and noticed the pantry light open. "(Y/N), were you sneaking snacks during dinner?!"

Wincing, you nodded your head. "Y-Yeah."

As she grabbed a cheap plate from the cabinet, Jenny chortled. "Leave the girl be, Annabelle. She's not going to spoil her dinner." She went to the pots and served herself.

While your mum and Jenny began a back and forth dialogue, you watched as Brahms managed to sneak his way to the hidden door. His hand placement caused the wall to pop open and he silently entered the entrance. He placed a finger to his masked lips before he shut the door.

Gulping, you snatched up your fork and began digging in.

* * *

Now that you knew Brahms wandered behind the walls you began a hidden version of tag with him. You tapped the walls and waited a moment before he tapped it from the other side. This made your errands easier to deal with since Brahms found you in a manner of minutes. It depended on how busy you were in helping your mum in the kitchen or with schoolwork.

Your participation in his games caused his crying fits to _stop._ Instead, you heard his laughter and his teasing words whenever he peeked through one of the secret doors. Anytime you felt a poke to your side, you knew it was Brahms sneaking around the manor.

You noticed a change in Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire. Their stiffness and standoffish nature lessened throughout the years. Almost as if their burdens left their shoulders.

Although, their change in personality caused a large number of servants to get fired.

Even the head butler, Bruce, was dismissed before the year ended. He left the manor with intimate secrets of the family inside of his mind.

Your mum became high-strung about keeping her place. She didn't have to pinch your side to keep you obedient. You didn't want her to get fired either. Without your mum's position, you both would become homeless.

* * *

During high school, your friendship with Brahms turned into one of best mates. He was the one who listened to your complaints and helped you out in your homework. You knew he was smart, but he learned on his own while living behind the walls. His parents handed Brahms the books for every school year and left it to him to learn. Without those booklets, Brahms repeated the _same_ lessons from his _childhood._ You overheard lessons from different nannies. Many of them were lazy in teaching or didn't teach like Mrs. Heelshire desired.

Either way, you benefitted in having an in house tutor. He oversaw your work and corrected you whenever your answers were wrong. You passed your tests without issue and brought a proud smile to your mum's face. She gave even more leeway in you having freedom and you didn't betray her trust. You knew your mum would easily take it back and hunker down in keeping you in line.

When it came to dating, your mum gave you a saucy wink at your beaming mood. She thought you got a little boyfriend at school and you didn't correct her. Best to leave your mum yammer on about her high school boyfriend while you enjoyed the stories.

Brahms demanded to know about your boyfriend. Before he went into hysterics, you reassured him about you mum's assumptions. You didn't have boyfriend. In fact, no boy in school interested you. You saw him instantly relax and return back to the easy going guy you spent time with.

Your face warmed at the idea of his jealousy.

But, you pushed the feeling aside. You thought you two were just _friends._ After all, you were his _only_ friend. He was attached to you.

It all changed while he was tutoring you.

When he finished helping you, you hugged him when you said goodbye. Before you managed to open the secret door, he _kissed_ you.

You shivered as his broad body pressed you against the wall. All the advice your mother told you about not fooling around with rich men left your mind. Who would ever know? Brahms was _dead_ to the world. The Heelshire's kept the memory of their dead son through that doll of theirs. A little kissing hurt no one.

Warmness developed in your belly as Brahms bucked against your smaller frame. Experiencing the sensation of physical attraction caused an addiction inside of you. You _envied_ the girls who snogged their boyfriends in between lessons while you avoided looking at them.

Your classmates assumed you were a prude or a selective sort of person, but without realizing it, you were _taken._ Brahms _ensnared_ you in his private world. You looked forward to the free moments where you mum didn't care about your whereabouts. You slipped into the secret doors and spent time in Brahms' crook in the walls.

You two continued on kissing each other in secret.

Spare moments was spent exchanging kisses or holding hands. Brahms gifted you flowers, drawings and . You prepared desserts for him.

Brahms _craved_ the innocent gestures of affection. A simple hug kept him satisfied for the rest of the day. Adding in a kiss and he became putty in your hands. You knew he missed physical touch because he hinted about his parents not having held him in _years_. The doll received more affection than him. In those moments, you cursed the Heelshire's for their blatant abandonment of their son.

By the time you finished secondary school, you closed yourself off to the outside world. You had no need to advertise your availability to _anyone_. No other man held your interest.

Instead of applying to universities, you stayed put at Heelshire manor. Your mum pestered you into trying to further your education, but you buffed her every single time. Later on in the future, you regretted not having tried a year, but in those moments you were firm in your decision.

In town, you received the casual questions about your singledom, but you answered with _honesty._ You were not looking for anyone. It didn't matter of you appeared cold or picky, you were content with life and work.

As long as you lived in that manor, Brahms continued on as your sweetheart.

* * *

At twenty years old, your mother was laid to rest in the town cemetery. It was a fair distance away from Heelshire manor. You didn't dare ask them to bury her in the small burial plot on their property. They didn't bury well beloved servants of previous years and wouldn't do it for a cook.

Your mother hid her sickness from you, almost collapsing into the silverware before she was taken to a hospital. Her secrecy didn't surprise you. Your mother remained stubborn in keeping aches and pains from leaving her lips. Anytime she hurt herself, she went to the clinic on her breaks and returned straight to work. Your mother's childhood left no room for laziness, which transitioned into her adult years.

She always commented on your softness, but never in a harsh or demeaning tone. In fact, she was happy to see you grew comfortable enough to show your emotions to her, not at all in the harsh nature of her own childhood. But, she warned you in displaying such weaknesses in front of the wrong people. Others, found tears an indicator of the easily manipulated.

You didn't have time to mourn her properly before Elaine Heelshire tested you in your cooking skills. You bit your tongue before you snapped at her to give you time to grieve. You were _not_ your mother. You didn't bounce back from grief or conceal your tears.

Yet, her testing kept you from being kicked out the manor. They needed a new cook to keep up with the demands of the family and their rare fancy dinners. Even if their friends hired high quality chefs, they grew used to the way your mum cooked their food. You knew they didn't want to interview a new cook and train them in the usual meals the family ate.

Your new position kept you _safe._

* * *

Every time you went to bed, you cried yourself to sleep. Having never experienced a death before, you reacted in the worst way possible. You lost yourself in your tears while neglecting your meals. Anytime you left your bed, it was to prepare three meals a day for the Heelshire's and then you went back to bed.

This cycle repeated for days, until Brahms pulled you into the wall. He held your hand tight as he guided you through the secret passages. Both of you made it to his room before he placed you onto his bed.

You watched him as he grabbed something from one of his desks. He turned back around and you saw a plate of sandwiches in his hands.

"(Y/N)." Brahms placed the plate onto your lap. "You have to eat."

You held onto the plate as you worried your lower lip. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

Brahms exhaled through his nose. "You haven't eaten properly in _days._ I know you're grieving, but you need to eat _something."_

You looked up at his masked face with a forced smile. "I'm fine."

Grabbing one of the sandwiches, he put it to your mouth and hissed. "You missed _two_ meals. Eat one sandwich. _One."_

Opening your mouth, you bit into the sandwich and chewed it. Your stomach protested having any food, but you forced it down your throat. Brahms kept the sandwich to your face so you had no choice but to eat it. Once you finished it, he removed the plate from your hands and set it down on his desk.

When Brahms looked back at you, you laid down on his bed. He crawled onto the bed and made himself comfortable at your side. You wrapped your arms around him and didn't let him go.

You didn't leave his arms that night or the night after.

If you were honest, you overstayed your welcome, but Brahms didn't seem to mind. You thought he pouted underneath his mask when you ended this sleeping habit of yours.

* * *

The sting of grief dissipated as you jumped into managing _your_ kitchen. After Mrs. Heelshire _approved_ of you, she handed you a key ring with multiple keys of the manor. You began alternating different areas of the kitchen to your needs.

After the old delivery boy quit for university. Malcolm became the main delivery boy for the grocer. You enjoyed having a familiar face who brought in copious amounts of entertainment. Watching him flounder around the nannies made your morning.

More nannies came and went.

You became the welcoming crew for these temporary nannies. Many of them came from different areas of the United Kingdom and sought the chance for a great paying job. Of course, they didn't know about the doll. They wouldn't have answered the ad otherwise. Their shocked or mortified faces made the remaining servants laugh behind closed doors.

Once the nannies got over the shock, they thought it was easy money. An easy way to procrastinate and discard the doll to the side. Oh no. Mrs. Heelshire criticized _everything_ about them. Depending on Mrs. Heelshire's mood, most of these nannies didn't last long.

Anytime you wanted to break the nannies illusions, you bit into your tongue to stop yourself from revealing the truth. These women wouldn't have wasted their time.

* * *

During one of your heated make out sessions, Brahms' hands slipped underneath your skirt and caressed your thighs. His body pressed against you and you felt his hardness through his slacks. Stiffening in place, you didn't feel ready to go into the next step.

Brahms stopped his actions and looked down at you in confusion. As he breathed real hard, he didn't resume his actions. His hands moved from your thighs to your hips.

"(Y/N)? Is everything alright?"

You gulped. "I-I don't want to go past kissing."

"You don't?" Brahms tilted his head to the side.

"I-I don't feel ready yet." You stammered out. "Mama would have wanted me to be married before I..." Your face went bright red, but you looked into his eyes and swore. "Trust me, I want to be one with you. _I do_. It's just...I don't feel comfortable yet."

A knowing expression graced Brahms' semi exposed face before he removed his hands from your hips. "I can wait."

You pressed a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Brahms." A realization came to your mind as you watched Brahms lay down on your side.

He was pronounced dead _years_ ago.

How were you going to get married to him?

Brahms was stuck inside the walls. He couldn't live a normal life or claim his identity back. To everyone outside a select few, Brahms was _dead_. He died as a _boy._ He didn't grow up to think about milestones in his life or to seek a partnership. He was a _ghost._

You knew full well that most men lost their patience in waiting for sex. Old classmates sighed about giving into their boyfriend or girlfriends demands in having sex when they were not ready. It was a huge regret. But, you trusted Brahms to not force you into doing anything you didn't want to.

Besides, you knew it wouldn't take long before you lost your resolve and gave in.

* * *

At some point, you felt paranoid of someone _watching_ you. Not all the time. No. This feeling happened whenever Brahms appeared or you searched for him.

Funny enough, you thought it was _Brahms,_ but the idea fizzled when you identified Brahms from his stare alone. Your body _tingled_ at the heat of his eyes as he watched you from a far distance. He tended to follow after you whenever you ventured to other places in the manor while one duty.

This stranger didn't _feel_ malicious.

At least, you hoped this person wouldn't out you to Mrs. Heelshire.

Mrs. Heelshire would scream her head off over you stepping into areas beyond your standing. Even though her child was _dead,_ she would want a proper girl for her son. She already made her stance clear when she dragged Brahms away from the kitchen when you were a child.

This time, the woman would have to face an adult Brahms. Child Brahms followed after his mummy's every word. Now, Brahms sought his own decisions and wouldn't give in to mummy.

* * *

Standing inside of Mr. Heelshire's study, it took all your power not to give in to your desire to cry. You remembered numerous staff members warning you about the meaning of being called into the study. After all, many of the staff were fired inside of the study to prevent further humiliation. You were dismissed and sent packing through the back door to prevent a scandal.

You witnessed plenty of ex Heelshire servants crying over having no place to live. You still held this fear even in your secure position. Others tried extorting the couple or even suing them. You found their displays ridiculous and unwarranted. The Heelshire's gave glowing recommendations which helped their servants find new jobs.

As Mrs. Heelshire sat in her husband's chair, you stood in front of the desk without making a sound. You watched as the woman finished her handwritten letters to family members. The woman rarely used her own phone to contact people. She preferred writing her thoughts on paper and sending them to family.

You and Mr. Heelshire handled the calls.

"(Y/N), you are dismissed from your duties in this manor home." Mrs. Heelshire looked up from her letters. "Not to worry, we will write a glowing recommendation for your new employer."

Trying to hold back your emotions, you nodded to Mrs. Heelshire. "As you wish, Mrs. Heelshire."

Mrs. Heelshire opened a drawer and removed a thick envelope. She reached out her arm and handed you an envelope full of money. Enough for a retirement fund or to live in the countryside without worrying about money.

"This last nanny is going to be a permanent fixture to the staff. She will cook the meals and run the household. Your services will end once our vacation has ended."

Digging your fingers into the envelope, you didn't see the sense of giving such _power_ to an _unknown_ woman. Mrs. Heelshire made a stink over hiring an unknown for her meals that you ended up with the position.

You didn't understand.

You dared to ask. "How long will that be?"

"Two months." She looked into your eyes for a moment before she averted them. _"Dismissed."_

* * *

Days passed before you heard Mrs. Heelshire running through the manor in preparation of the new nanny. She acted the same way for _every_ single nanny. Despite her reservations in these women, she still wanted to present a good impression of her home. Since the maids were fired, Mrs. Heelshire hired a cleaning staff to come in twice a week.

You paid her no mind as you made breakfast and left a serving on the table before you wheeled out the couple's breakfast on a trolley. When you entered the dining room, Mr. Heelshire welcomed you in with a nod and a smile. You set down his breakfast before you poured him his tea and a cup of hot water with a wedge of lemon. After placing down the cream and sugar, you stepped back and set down Mrs. Heelshire's breakfast on her place at the table.

"Ah, my favorite blend. You spoil me, (Y/N)." Mr. Heelshire stirred in cream into his tea before he slurped it. "You _never_ burn the leaves. Thank goodness."

Chuckling, you poured Mrs. Heelshire's hot water and squirted half a lemon into the cup. She disliked having her hands smell like lemon so she demanded you to do it. "Mum used to twist my ear over burning the tea. The flashbacks alone make me keep an eye on the time."

Mr. Heelshire shook his head in amusement. "Ah, Annabelle was such a fiery soul."

You tossed the lemon into the rubbish bin in the middle of the cart.

Mr. Heelshire said. "Just to inform you, the nanny will arrive after breakfast. You may tend to other duties while she settles in."

"Oh, where is she from?"

"America." Mr. Heelshire informed you. "Elaine was insistent on trying out a foreigner from across the pond for the service."

You placed the pot of tea on the table. "That seems...excessive."

"I agree." Mr. Heelshire dabbed his mouth before he sipped his tea. "But, many of the nannies on this side of the world haven't responded to the adverse. Miss Greta answered the day after we sent the advertisement through an online job listing site."

"That's good." You clutched the bar of the pushcart before you continued. "I thank you for these years of overseeing myself and my mother, sir. I know your family has dismissed me for when you return from your vacation, but I'd still like to thank you for your generosity."

"Dismissal?" Mr. Heelshire cocked up a brow. "Elaine dismissed _you_?"

Your face flushed at the implication that Mrs. Heeshire didn't discuss your unemployment with her husband. "I-I received an envelope of my next few payment days. Was I misinformed?"

"I'll have a talk with her on this issue." Mr. Heelshire sighed. "You're a vital asset of this household. More than anything," He set down his fork and knife. "Brahms has a deep affection for you. It's in our best interest to keep him happy."

Your heart skipped a beat. Scrambling for an excuse, you humored him. "Ah...I didn't know that little doll Brahms liked me. How adorable."

Mr. Heeshire stared right into your eyes when he said. "(Y/N), I know of the numerous secret rendezvous with Brahms."

You flinched. "M-My apologies. I have overstepped-"

Mr. Heeslhire waved off your excuses. "Oh no. I understand young affection quite well. I dallied around with year mates before my arrangement with Elaine. Brahms has no such luxury. He has...limited options."

"I see."

Mr. Heelshire added in. "I expect you two to use protection." You choked on your spit. "I gave Brahms the talk during puberty and I'm sure your school gave you the same lessons. It's best not to procure unwanted pregnancies during this time."

You stammered with a humiliating blush. "W-We haven't done anything of that sort, sir! Brahms is respectful of my space."

Impressed, Mr. Heelshire smiled light. "I see. Even in his situation, he holds himself up as a gentleman. _Good."_ He picked up his fork and knife before he resumed eating.

Seeing the cue to leave, you hurried out of the dining room with a bright red face. You couldn't believe Mr. Heelshire uttered those words to you. Sure, there were days that Brahms was _handsy,_ but nothing to indicate you two had _sex._

He didn't seem bothered by your _relationship._ At least, the pressure of him finding out left your shoulders.

Better him than Mrs. Heelshire.

* * *

When you were preparing the ingredients for lunch, Greta walked in through the kitchen door. She jumped in shock at seeing you already in the process of making lunch. Too bad she couldn't have _accidentally_ dropped the doll.

"A pleasure to meet you!" You smiled at Greta as you peeled the potatoes over the scrap bin. "I'm (Y/N). The family cook."

Greta paused for a moment before she commented. "I thought I was going to be the one cooking the meals." She motioned to the doll. "The rules said-"

You tossed the potato into the pile and picked up another one. "The Heelshire's are particular about their meals. My mum was the original cook before I took over so I learned everything from her. Meaning," You winced at the sight of the doll. "They wanted me to cook Brahms' meals."

Greta appeared relieved as she set the doll down onto the chair. "So, I don't have to follow all the rules? That's a relief. I read through the rules and found them ridiculous."

Your eyes narrowed as you processed her words. The last nanny wasn't as forthcoming in her uncomfortableness, but at least she kept her opinions to herself. For all Greta knew, you told everything that happened to the Heelshire's. Not that you would rat out anyone employed under the family for anything other than their own safety.

"I suggest following the rest of those rules, Greta. Trust me, when I say that the Heelshire's have _eyes_ in these walls." You finished peeling the potato and tossed it into the pile. "I wouldn't risk your job for laziness."

Greta hunched her shoulders in embarrassment as she nodded her head. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking. So...the Heelshire's have security cameras around this place?"

Swallowing down the guilt, you lied to her. "Yes. They are an old couple, Greta. It isn't odd for them to add extra security around their home. There was a break in a few years ago which resulted in the old head butler receiving a stay in hospital. Now, the Heelshire's make sure security is well maintained. No need to worry. They have it all handled. You're safe here."

The tension in Greta's face slipped away to reveal a grateful smile. "Their paranoia is my gain. Honestly, I was afraid of being on my own here without company." She held up the Brahms doll with a chuckle. "There is only so much I can say to a doll before I snap."

You snorted. "Oh trust me, you'll find ways to entertain yourself. It's a pity they never installed cable. They listen to radio programming."

* * *

When you entered your kitchen, you watched as Malcolm wove his charm onto Greta. Every single nanny went through Malcolm's _initiation._ Half the time, you didn't know if he was serious in dating these women or he enjoyed flirting with new faces. Your small town left the dating pool almost _stagnant._ You either married a high school sweetheart or found someone when you left for university. Either way, everyone knew each other which meant none of the local women fell for Malcolm's _charms_.

Rolling your eyes, you made your presence known with a cough. _"Malcolm."_

"Afternoon, (Y/N)!" Malcolm exclaimed as he set down one of the many boxes of groceries onto the table. "I was just welcoming Greta into the manor."

"I see." You looked at Greta and caught her interest in Malcolm. "I can handle it from here, Greta." You informed her with a easy going smile. "Malcolm tends to mess up my kitchen. I'd rather not reorganize when it's dinnertime."

"Hey!"

Greta chuckled before she picked up the doll. "I have to start music class anyways. Pleasure to meet you, Malcolm."

"Bye." Malcolm waved at Greta as she hurried out the kitchen.

Once Greta was a good distance away, you hissed. _"Really,_ Malcolm? You know how selective the Heelshire's are, it's no good to get invested in the nannies. You slept with one of them and they ended up being fired the week after!"

Malcolm ruffled the back of his neck. "Nothing wrong with being friendly, not like I'm hurting anyone. Why are you being such a downer anyway?"

"I'm realistic." You moved everything back into their proper place. "Just like the nannies won't last long, the Heelshire's will not keep me around forever."

You didn't want to imagine the blowout between Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire over your employment.

Throughout the years, Mrs. Heelshire fired a number of servants. Even those with generational lines in their employment didn't have a chance in keeping their jobs. To those outside the manor, it was expected that you to stayed for the long run. You were a _cook_. A valuable asset. Many of the nearby rich families wanted to employ you, but your loyalty kept you at Heelshire manor.

Malcolm said. "You...you have thought about a life after this family?"

"Yes." You stacked the boxes on top of each other and handed them into Malcolm's hands. "After the main staff were fired, I was the last one standing. Every single time I'm criticized, I think I'm getting fired. I-I think it's luck and nostalgia that keeps me here. Mum always made their meals to perfection and I am the only one who knows how."

Malcolm sighed. "(Y/N), Mr. Heelshire always says you take good care of them. There's no way you're going to get fired. Unless, Mr. or Mrs. Heelshire somehow learned how to cook, then you have a job until they die."

You shook your head. "Sure, whatever you say."

* * *

Placing the main plate on the table, you arranged your own plate of food. You served yourself small portion of the main meal, ice water, and scalding tea. The tea would cool down by the time you finished dinner, so it was best to think ahead. You planned on scooping up a bit of sherbet with small pieces of oranges for dessert.

Tapping the wall, you went back to your seat and sat down. You waited until the wood paneling of the wall popped open. Turning to the direction of the creak, you saw an enormous man crawl out of the wall. It always stunned you how Brahms managed to tower over everyone despite his confinement. His growth and development didn't slow down. It accelerated.

"Brahms." You nodded to him before you sipped your water. "Please sit."

Brahms didn't move from his exit point and stayed in place.

"Greta is entertaining the doll inside of the parlor. I denied eating dinner with her so I can be here with you." You heard him shuffle to the table and the chair screeched from being moved. "There was no need for you to hesitate. I have a bell on the door to alert of her presense."

He maneuvered his mask out of the way before he ate his _hot_ meal. "Thank you, (Y/N)." At least, Brahms didn't use the baby voice around you. When Brahms interacted with his parents, he used that irritating voice that annoyed you to no end.

You set down your cup and waited a moment before you asked. "Do you like Greta?"

Brahms' fork paused in the air, "She's entertaining. She tried teaching me French and her accent is _appalling_."

You sighed. "Your mother is stuck in wanting her to be your _permanent_ caretaker. You know, without me around, she will be the one to cook your meals."

Brahms tossed the fork onto the table. You watched as the fork bounced off the placemat and fell onto the floor. He slammed his hands onto the table and stood up.

You peered back toward the door that lead out of the kitchen and then to Brahms. "Why are you shocked? You had nannies for years-"

"I _don't_ want a nanny."

"Y-You don't?" You inquired. "But, your mother said that you liked this one. She was _the one_."

"I tolerate her." Brahms stated. "Mummy and daddy wanted a vacation and I was willing to make mummy happy. She leaves when mummy and daddy come back."

"Oh."

Brahms crouched down and picked up the fork. He rushed to the sink and rinsed off the grime on his fork. He returned to the table with a frown. "(Y/N), I want you to stay here forever."

Your cheeks warmed up at his admission. "Brahms, that decision is up to your parents. I'm one of the last people left from the original staff. Besides," You worried your lower lip. "your father found out about us."

Brahms tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

You poked at your dinner with your fork when you admitted. "He told me that we needed to take safety precautions during sex."

Parts of Brahms exposed face went red. "I would never disrespect your values. You wanted to wait."

"I know and I'm grateful for your patience." I sipped my water before taking a bite. "I'm sure he saw us kissing and assumed how far we have gone."

Brahms rubbed his beard with hunched shoulders. "At least, father approves. This makes it easier for us in the future." He continued on eating with gusto.

Biting into your lower lip, you couldn't handle lying to him. When the inevitable fight between Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire happens, Brahms would be upset that you didn't tell him _anything._

Coughing into your fist, you broke the peaceful atmosphere. "Brahms, your mum fired me. She gave me the next pay installments while I was in your father's study." Brahms snapped his head up in fury. "But, your father reassured me I was staying before they left on vacation."

Brahms swallowed his food. "Father was firm about you staying?"

"Yes."

"Then, we have nothing to worry about." Brahms returned to his meal as you slumped into your chair in relief. "Father accept us. This means he won't let mum get away with firing you. You're _mine."_ He reached out a hand and held onto yours.

You squeezed his hand in reassurance.

* * *

Greta's initial slip didn't showcase her _seriousness_ over her position. She began following the rules to the letter as she carried doll Brahms _everywhere_ she went. Whenever you made food, you declined having dinner with them to not sit in the same room as the doll.

Life in Heelshire manor was business as usual. You went along your duties while Greta went through the motions with the doll. The peacefulness of the nearby forest added to the mood.

Until, Brahms began his _mischievous_ ways.

Greta informed you that she heard little Brahms while she was in her room.

It took all your self control not to laugh at her face. She wouldn't like having someone laugh at her theories. You didn't like the old servants and your mum dismissing your own ghost theory when you were a kid.

"I didn't see her as the type to believe in ghosts." You slipped a bite of crumble into Brahms' mouth as you leaned against the wall. Brahms kept an arm around your waist as the rest of him was inside of the secret door.

You didn't worry about Greta walking into the study to see Brahms. Greta didn't step foot inside of the study unless she left mail meant for the Heelshire's. It helped that clearing the rat traps took a long time to complete. 

Brahms chewed his bite before he said. "You used to believe in them as well, (Y/N)." He showed his amusement when his eyes wrinkled on the corners.

You punched his arm. "I was a gullible tween. I didn't know how to excuse the voices I kept hearing."

Brahms laughed out loud.

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Just try not to scare her away. She might call your parents to claim she heard your _kid_ voice."

Brahms scoffed. "I'm sure that Mum told her not to call them."

You gave him another forkful of dessert. "I know for a fact that your mum will want updates. I'll call them if Greta doesn't do it." She leaned against his frame as you wondered out loud. "I didn't know your dad had a cellphone. Granted, the phone number I was given was old, but I never had to use it. You mum was always here."

Brahms nodded his head. "I'm sure he has set times for his business partners to call him. That's why we never heard the phone."

"Maybe." Brahms bent down to kiss you. "It seems ridiculous though." You kissed Brahms as he pulled you into his arms.

* * *

Noticing that Greta didn't call the Heelshire's with updates, you took it upon yourself to call them. Even though she took care of a doll, the Heelshire's were less stressed when receiving constant updates from the nannies. They left you a number to call in case you needed information or to get their approval on certain aspects of the home. You never used it because Mrs. Heelshire tended to approve of almost everything after her criticisms.

Before you went to the main phone receiver, you brought along your address book. A bit outdated, but you grew accustomed to using it to find numbers you wrote inside of it. Mainly, the numbers of the repairmen and old friends from school who you kept in touch with.

**"Kirkland and sons law firm. Benjamin Kirkland speaking."**

You paused.

For a slight second, you thought that you dialed the wrong number. You flipped through your address book and found the Kirkland and sons law firm phone number. You compared the slip of paper with the number. They were _identical._

**"Hello?"**

"I'm sorry. Um, Mr. Kirkland? This is (Y/N) (L/N), the Heelshire's cook." You inquired.

**"Ah, so they left you the number. I was certain they would leave it to their boy. No matter. I will relay all the information to you."**

Confused, you laid a hand on the table to stabilize yourself. "I don't understand. Why would the Heelshire's leave me this number? I thought this would leave me to their hotel room."

**"Oh...Ms. (L/N)."**

As he began explaining the Heelshire's plans, you _swayed_ onto the chair. Listening to Mr. Kirkland explain the Heelshire's idea in leaving Greta with Brahms made your stomach _turn_. They wanted her to be his caretaker, almost like a _wife._ This way, Brahms wouldn't be left alone after they committed suicide and you left at the end of the month. At least, this was Mrs. Heelshire's plan. Mr. Heelshire wrote seperate documents stating your _untouchable_ status as their employee.

You knew Brahms wasn't going to his parents plans. Brahms _despised_ nannies and told you that he expected his parents back at the end of their _vacation._ He didn't want Greta to stay in _his_ home. He wanted her _gone._ Although, he would pounce on the idea of you staying with him forever.

**"There is a backup plan for this occasion. The Heelshire's made sure to add this suggestion in case Brahms decided to _reappear."_**

"A plan?"

**"The Heelshire's nephew, Anton, was never officially pronounced dead. His name could be used as a new identity. Despite the slight age difference, their son has an identity waiting for him."**

"That's ridiculous! How did they think they were going to hide the fact that Brahms _wasn't_ Anton. I knew him when he was alive and he was a terrible flirt!" You clutched the phone receiver _tight._

You heard Mr. Kirkland chuckle. **"People change after life altering events, Ms. (L/N). No one would question the vast difference in personalities. Give it a thought."**

* * *

Struggling to keep a smile on your face, you stalked back into the kitchen.

You didn't expect _company._

The Heelshire's kept _one vital_ rule. _Never_ invite outside guests into the manor.

The fact Greta had the gall to bring a man into the manor _infuriated_ you. After years of living there, you _never_ disobeyed this one rule.

When Greta went into the kitchen, you went up to her face. "Who is that man?! Do you have any idea what you have done?! The Heelshire's instructions are _clear."_

Greta looked up and snapped at you. "I couldn't stop him even if I tried! My sister gave him my address and he came here to England."

"Why the fuck did you give your family this address?! It's not like you can't send emails or text messages! Wait, the connection is shite so phone calls." You rubbed your face in irritation. "How could you endanger this household? What if Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire were here?!"

Greta blinked back tears. "I couldn't stop him if I tried! I left him because he caused my miscarriage. He was my abuser!"

You covered your mouth in shock.

"It's just..." Greta wiped her eyes to get rid of the stray tears that fell down her face. "I don't know what else to tell him. He won't listen to me."

You removed the hand from your mouth and rubbed your face instead. "I'll see what I can do. We need him to leave before someone else notices he's here."

"Malcolm?"

"Possibly." You drummed your fingers on your arm. "Does he care about the police?"

Greta shook her head. "He ignored the restraining order to come here."

"Well, fuck us." You stared at the walls and sighed. "Can you lure him to the parlor room?"

Greta worried her lower lip. "Why? What can we do?"

You said. "I can try to bluff my way out of this mess. Remember, we're alone in this place." You fibbed the last part. "Two women can't overpower a man no matter what surprise attacks we do."

* * *

Greta walked inside of the parlor room with doll Brahms in her arms. You watched from a distance as Cole began spouted _their_ plans of leaving the manor. From his matter a fact voice, you knew he _wouldn't_ accept Greta saying _no._ Greta seemed to hunch into herself as Cole walked with his head held high.

Before she left to lure Cole into the parlor, you saw the terror on Greta's face. You hated having to use her this way, but you needed to get the guy to leave first. Greta already tried to get him to return to the United States only to fail because of his power over her.

You didn't think the man would lay a hand on you. For all he knew, you would use your bosses _influences_ to give him the maximum sentence if he hit you. Besides, once there is one other person in the mix, an abuser didn't _show_ their _intentions_.

Greta was safe.

Knowing full well that Brahms kept an eye on the both of you, you entered the parlor room. Seeing Greta's ex lounging in Mr. Heelshire's room made you sick to your stomach. The man was too comfortable. He didn't care about the consequences and would be hard to get rid of. No wonder Greta left to the other side of the world to run away from him.

Tapping your fingers on your arm, you addressed the man with a sneer. "I didn't know the Heelshire's allowed strangers in their home."

The man jumped in place and looked toward you with a strained smile. "No, they don't. Greta invited me." He got up from his chair and put his hand out. "I'm Cole, Greta's boyfriend.

Greta stayed out of the way as she averted her eyes.

Giving him a once over, you didn't shake his hand. "Then, she will be fired the moment the Heelshire's come back." You ignored Greta's pleading expression as she clutched onto the doll. "I will give them a call and see if they don't call the police."

He put his hands up. "Whoa, whoa. There is no need to-"

"Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire have _clear_ orders in their guest policy. If they don't know you, no one is allowed to enter their home. Old couples with money tend to be _irrational,_ but I know better than to piss them off." You glared at him. "Now, collect your things and leave the premises."

Cole's demeanor changed as he sneered. "Or what?" He loomed over you and your heart began racing. "You can't force me out of here. Besides, the police take time to get to such a... _private_ location."

You gave him full eye contact when you said. " _Piss off_. You are messing with the wrong person."

Cole didn't waste time before he punched you in the face. You fell back onto the pool table as he appeared smug at having put you in your place.

"(Y/N)!" Greta cried out as she clutched onto doll Brahms.

Your mind whirled from the impact and the pain of your jaw. No man had _ever_ laid a hand on you. Using your arms to lift yourself up, you didn't give Cole the satisfaction of seeing you cry. He could go fuck himself.

You sneered. "Oh, you did it now. You idiot."

The room began to rattle without control and you stayed in place. Rubbing your face, you thought you heard Brahms furious scream from beyond the walls. Smirking, you watched as the mirror broke into pieces and Brahms crawled out of the wall.

Cole didn't have a chance to defend against his assault.

* * *

Brahms slammed Cole's head repeatedly onto the floor. You managed to stabilize yourself against one of the chairs as you watched him bludgeon the man to death. Instead of fear, a streak of _satisfaction_ filled your chest. Having such a strong man protect you made you feel _safe._

Noticing that Brahms wasn't going to stop on his own, you stumbled over to him. He paused when he saw you move. His hand clutched onto Cole's bloody shirt, but you didn't let it deter you away.

"Brahms." You grabbed onto his arm, stopping him doing anymore damage. There was use in desecrating the dead. "He's dead."

Brahms grunted as he tossed the corpse away from his hands. He raised his hands and looked down at you with diminishing fury. The fury wasn't directed at _you,_ but at the man who dared to hurt you.

You took out a handkerchief from your pocket and began cleaning his hands. "You're lucky that Malcolm wasn't here. How were we going to explain everything?"

Brahms grunted. "I knock him out."

You sighed. "Better than hurting him. Remember, he delivers the groceries in this home and he's a good friend of the family."

"I know, dear."

"(Y/N)." Greta uttered out as she gripped doll Brahms in her arms. "W-Who is-I'm-"

You peered toward her. "You really shouldn't have let this man stay here. Now, look what happened." You licked your lips. "You have a chance to leave and forget what happened here."

"(Y/N)." Brahms growled out. "She must-"

You rubbed his hands and explained. "Brahms, she hasn't done a thing wrong. She is an abuse victim. She can go back to her home without fear now. This useless waste of space is dead."

Greta stammered. "I-I won't say anything. I swear." She blinked back her tears, but they cascaded down her face. "I-I'll go back and forget this ever happened."

You smiled up at Brahms. _"See?_ Now, you need to take a bath. You know how much I hate the smell of bloo-"

Brahms removed your hand from his arm before he bolted towards Greta. Greta yelped as she tried running away, but she didn't get far.

You let out a sigh when Brahms snapped Greta's neck. Her body fell onto the floor in a soft thud. Doll Brahms rolled faced down onto the dirty carpet. You were dismayed it didn't break into pieces.

As dangerous as he was, you knew Brahms obsession and love over you kept you safe.

You were ridiculous enough to love him back.

_"Brahms."_

Brahms looked back at you with a innocent smile. "I'm protecting you, dear."

"I know, love." You huffed out. "You're digging the plots and you're helping me clean up this mess."

* * *

"(Y/N)!" Malcolm rushed through the back door with a fire poker in his hands. "I heard screaming, is everything alright?"

You jumped in place before you turned around. The purpling bruise told Malcolm everything he needed to know.

"Did he-"

"Yes." You turned your head away. "He attempted to make himself at home. I had the bright idea of pissing off the guy and had not called the cops yet."

"Damn it, (Y/N)." Malcolm sighed. "Do you need me to call the cops?"

You shook your head. "Since that prick left with Greta, we hold no responsibility over her. As sad as I am over her situation, I can't disobey the Heelshire's. They don't want the police snooping around their home. You know how they are."

Malcolm reached out his hand and rubbed your shoulder. "Yeah, I know." He grumbled. "I should have defended her when I was here."

You froze in place. "When were you here?"

"A few hours ago." Malcolm kept his hand on you. "I wanted to check on you and Greta, I found him lounging around the living room."

"Can you even fight, Malcolm?" You smiled despite the tenderness of your face. "I distinctly remember you got your arse kicked more often than not."

Malcolm's face flushed. "Okay, okay, I would have hit him behind the head and tied him up before the police came."

After Malcolm left, Brahms grabbed you from behind. His grip tightened as his masked face pressed against your cheek. You shivered from the coldness of the porcelain. You leaned back against him, not caring about the dirt clinging to his clothes.

"You are showering after we are done."

"But, (Y/N)!" Brahms whined.

You deadpanned. "There is no one else in this house stopping you from showering. Besides, I don't want _that man's_ blood sticking to your clothes."

The mention of Greta's ex made Brahms growl. _"Fine."_

* * *

Brahms Heelshire became Anton Heelshire after a phone call with Benjamin Kirkland. Brahms' older cousin died at a young age in Paris. A cousin who graduated with a degree in business and lived a fast life. Brahms scars were excused as part of the accident. His self isolation came from the _trauma_ of the _accident._ The previous exuberant Anton, became a shell of his former self. A hermit that invested his life in the family business.

After _every_ single Heelshire died, Anton inherited the estate and the riches. To make this work, Benjamin suggested taking Brahms away with him to stage a reentrance through the town. A means to showcase the family was _all dead_ , but one _survived._ Maybe, spin the tragedy to their favor to keep people from asking too many _questions_.

Benjamin appeared in the middle of the night and took Brahms with him. You waited with baited breath as you watched the clock. At some point, you got up and made yourself a hearty breakfast. You overcharged your coffee and left out the cream. Falling asleep wasn't an option.

When it was eight in the morning, the phone rang. Scrambling up on your feet, you went to the phone and answered. "Heelshire manor, this is (Y/N). How may I help you?"

You sighed in relief at the sound of Benjamin's voice. He warned you about the arrival of the taxi in ten minutes. After ending the call, you hurried to your room and changed into a different outfit. You applied your makeup and pulled your hair back into a ponytail. When you were finished, you donned on your apron before you rushed to the front door. You breathed in and out before you opened the door and stepped outside.

You walked out just in time to see the taxi make a complete stop in front of the manor. Standing straight, you watched as the old driver got out of the car and waved at you. You smiled light and waved at him back. Despite his gruff exterior, everyone knew the man did his job well and without complaint.

The old man opened the back door to reveal a tall man in lavish clothing. Gulping, you watched as Brahms made his way out of the taxi. His cane hit the gravel pavement as he turned to look at you.

You almost cried at the sight of his face. Since the time you saw him in that pantry, he only moved the mask aside to kiss you. You didn't know how Benjamin did it, but he convinced Brahms to remove the mask and show off his face. His beard was trimmed down close to his face. The scars on the side of his face were hidden with his stray hairs that left his combed back hair.

Brahms nodded to the driver before he made his way up the stairs. His piercing blue eyes kept you from looking away from him. You played with your hands as he got closer and closer to you.

You welcomed a maskless Brahms at the front entrance. "Welcome to Heelshire manor." You bowed to him. "I'm (Y/N) (L/N). The late Mr and Mrs. Heeshire's cook. I will be your cook if you'll have me."

Brahms licked his dry lips as his heated gaze lingered on your form. "I have no issue in keeping your services, Miss (Y/N)."

"Thank you." You lifted your head back up and saw the fire in his eyes. Turning your back to him, you opened the door and let him go first. You followed after him.

Once the door closed, Brahms backed you against the wall and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and as he pawed at your body. Without anyone in the manor, Brahms was free to kiss you and caress you in anyway he wished. You didn't mind. You always daydreamed of Brahms pinning you down and having his way with you in the living room.

In between your heated kisses, Brahms said. "Please, marry me."

You clung onto him as you repeated. "Yes. _Yes."_

Months later, you signed a marriage certificate and became (Y/N) Heelshire. Nine months later, you both welcomed home a son, Hugo Heelshire. 

**The end.**


End file.
